Living aboard a boat full time and cruising to distant places may seem
pretty exotic to a lot of dirt dwelling folks. Hell, it seemed pretty
exotic to us for the first few years we were out. But after a while the
novelty wears off. When you get right down to it, a boat is just another
form of shelter. Ours is smaller than any apartment you're likely to
encounter and it moves around more than a house (sometimes when you wish
it wouldn't), but the essential components - kitchen, bathroom, living
room, and bedroom - are the same (albeit miniaturized and labelled differently).
And those palm studded, white sand fringed islands, well, they tend to
all look the same after a while. Call us jaded, but that's just the way
it is after nine years of leading this alternative lifestyle.

We still like living aboard and we still enjoy exploring new places
and revisiting old haunts. However, as Eileen's song suggests, after
we've sorted out our seashell collection and thumbed through a pile of
photos, it's the less tangible aspects of cruising that keep us going.
Talk to most long term cruisers and they will agree that it's the sense
of camaraderie and mutual support within the cruising community that
means the most to them. Anyone with the cash for an airline ticket and
hotel room can visit a tropical island. Friends are harder to come by
and, in the end, much more valuable.

Jamie Bennett grilling us dinner in the shadow of "Picaro", his cruising home when we met in the San Blas islands six years ago

Last week's entry
("Boston Marathon") described our mad rush
to get to New England from the Chesapeake in time for a scheduled event.
For a while there it looked like we weren't going to get out of the boatyard
in time (at least not with a functioning engine). We started working
on Plan B - leave the boat behind and drive to Boston and back. We sent
an e-mail to our friends Steve and Jane on "Sea Fan", whom
we first met on Christmas day 2000 in St. John in the US Virgins. Last
fall, we bumped into them again in Annapolis and they mentioned that
they had a place just north of town on the Magothy River. "We have
a dock with electricity and water that you're welcome to use anytime
you're in the area," they offered. When we e-mailed them last week
explaining our situation, we received a prompt response with detailed
instructions on how to navigate to their dock.

Then we e-mailed
our friend Bill Seifert who lives near Bristol, Rhode Island. Bill
has worked in just about every aspect of the yacht industry,
written several articles and a book about his experiences, and now manages
a stable of luxury sailboats for wealthy clients. He was one of Eileen's
earliest fans after she produced her first recording in 1997, and has
remained an avid supporter ever since. We last saw Bill three years ago
in Melbourne, Florida, at a Seven Seas Cruising Association gathering.
Now, out of the blue, we asked him if he knew of any place we could stay
within a couple of hours' drive of Boston. The reply was immediate: "I'd
be honoured if you'd stay at my home."

The next day, the
engine was fixed (sort of) and we e-mailed Steve, Jane, and Bill thanking
them for their generous offers and explaining
we wouldn't have to impose on them after all. Four days later we dropped
the hook in Dutch Harbor, just outside Jamestown, Rhode Island. We had
made it to New England with the boat, but we still had to get up to Boston
for Eileen's performance. After a good night's sleep, we walked the short
distance from the dinghy dock to the Jamestown public library to check
our e-mail. Among the incoming messages was a note from our old friend
Jamie. We crossed wakes with Jamie and his wife Linda and son Harry (then,
six years old) on "Picaro" in 1997 in the San Blas islands
off the Caribbean coast of Panama. We had last seen them in the Bay Islands
of Honduras and, through intermittent Christmas cards, had the vague
notion they were now living somewhere on the eastern seaboard. Jamie's
e-mail said he had heard through the grapevine that we were heading to
New England for the summer. He insisted we look them up if we happened
to be near where they lived ... in Jamestown, Rhode Island!

Enjoying the company of Bill Seifert and Betty Bishop aboard "Little Gidding"

We walked across
the street to a public telephone and dialled the number Jamie had provided.
Fifteen minutes later, Jamie picked us up in his
car, drove us to his house, showed us where the showers, laundry and
computers were, and gave us the keys to his pickup truck. Linda and Harry
were up at their summer camp, but we had the run of the house for as
long as we were in port. When we told Jamie we were renting a car to
drive up to Boston, he said, "No you're not! Come back here on Thursday
and swap the truck for my car - it's much better on the freeway."

There was a big crowd
at the yacht club in Boston last Thursday evening. Before Eileen was
scheduled to perform, we heard a very distinctive and
familiar laugh. There was Terry from "Glass Slipper" picking
his way towards us, beaming happily, arms outstretched. The last place
we'd seen Terry was in Trinidad. We had been commiserating together in
a boatyard; he was replacing the teak deck on "Glass Slipper" and
we were scraping and painting "Little Gidding's" bottom. A
lot had happened in the two years since then; Terry had lost his partner
to cancer and "Glass Slipper" was now tied up in front of his
apartment in Marion. "I'd sure like to join you guys down south
again," he said wistfully.

Just as we were catching
up with Terry, two other familiar faces emerged from the throng. Kit
and John from "Kittiwake" had heard about
the event and, although they weren't members of the Pelagic Sailing Club,
had called up the organizer Trina and arranged to attend. Over the past
half dozen years, we've shared many anchorages with them in Florida and
the Bahamas. Kit is truly "a sailor's daughter" who has been
on the water all of her life. She lays claim to being the oldest woman
living aboard full time - a claim that's hard to believe for all of her
youthful enthusiasm and energy. Her husband John is a former Olympic
sailor who, in their Pearson 35, routinely beats all the younger sailors
at the George Town cruisers' regattas. Later after the performance, Kit
promised us, "We'll see you back in the Bahamas this winter. We're
good for at least one more year!"

This past weekend,
Bill Seifert phoned. He had just returned from Bermuda on a delivery
and had missed the Thursday concert. On his recommendation,
his friend Betty had driven up for the show. We invited Bill and Betty
to join us for dinner on "Little Gidding". When David picked
them up at the dinghy dock Monday evening, our inflatable almost sank
under the weight of the tote bag Bill was carrying. "Hope you like
swordfish," Bill said. There was enough fish to feed a navy, even
a navy full of prodigious eaters like David. As the steaks sizzled on
the grill, Bill produced a bottle of Gosling's Black Seal rum and a bottle
of Barritts ginger beer. "My Bermuda souvenirs," Bill explained,
as he gave instructions for mixing a round of "dark and stormies".
We ate and talked well into the night, Bill reproaching us for not planning
to cruise his home waters longer.

We could go on and
on about all the people we've met on the water over the years. When
non-cruisers ask us, "Don't you miss your friends
when you're out cruising?" we answer, "We go cruising to be
with our friends."